Thisis exactly why it is unethical for someone in my position to mix business with pleasure.
Thisis why we take an oath to uphold our duties.
Slamming the phone back onto the receiver, I click the intercom and connect with Lydia. “Bring me Raina Lancaster’s file,” I bark into the speaker. Then, because I know how incredibly rude I’m being, I add, “Please.”
Her voice connects immediately. “Right away, sir.”
A few minutes later, she’s waltzing into my office, file in hand. Holding it over my desk, she stares at me with a cold, serious expression. “You may be my boss, but I am still your elder, and you need to cut the attitude. I can tell something isreallybothering you—I have never seen you this angry and am willing to give you some grace. However, please remember I’monyourteam.” She slams the file on my desk, then turns and walks back out, shutting the door gently as she goes.
Noted.
Lydia is lucky I look at her as a maternal figure in a professional capacity, because if anyone else spoke to me like that callously, they would be fired immediately.
Flipping through Raina’s file, it takes me a few moments before I finally locate the document I’m searching for, the marriage certificate, which is shoved in the back, sandwiched between two other documents.
Picking it up, I examine it closely. Everything is in French, and I only recognize a few words, mostly due to their similarities to their English translation.
My eyes glide over to another French marriage certificate on my computer I have pulled up for reference. The difference between the two is glaringly obvious, and I get even more furious at myself as I stare at the fake in my hand, completely missing the French seal.
“FUCK!” Swiping at everything on my desk in frustration, I send files, pens, papers, and other office supplies flying. My chair topples over when I shove it backward, launching to my feet.
Stalking over to where my alcohol sits on a sterling tray on my bookshelf, I don’t bother to pour my scotch into a glass before I toss it back straight from the crystal decanter. It burns as I chug down as much as I can stomach.
Seconds later, I hear Lydia’s muffled voice frantically telling whoever’s out in reception with her not to come in here, but they don’t heed her warning, and instead, my office door flies open. Furious, my head whips toward them, and my partner, Simon Gamble, appears in my doorway.
“What the fuck, Paladino?” He looks around at the disaster I’ve made in my office.
“It’s nothing.” Tipping the decanter again, I block my view of the bastard who I’m in silent competition with, despite him being my partner at the firm.
“Go home, Luciano. You can’t be at work while you’re in this state.”
Slamming the decanter back on its tray, I give him my back and look out at the city. “Fuck that. You have no say in what I do, Gamble.”
“It’s my name on the building before yours. Now, go home and cool off. We have a business to run, and you sure as hell can’t defend your clients when you’re busy destroying your office. Get your shit together, Luciano. This is unacceptable.”
He scoffs, then leaves, his heavy footsteps carrying him through reception and back to his side of the floor.
My head hangs loose on my shoulders, shame pouring through me as it takes my brain less than a few seconds to catch up on the reality of what just happened.
This is exactly why I didn’t want to get involved with Raina. With myclient.
Everything is so fucked.
Fixing my leather chair, I sink into it and pick up my phone to call the one person I can think of to help get my mind off things. As much as I don’t want to rely on him, he’s the only one I know won’t say no to my request.
Sully answers on the first ring. “Hey, Lu-Lu. To what do I owe the pleasure of our first phone call?”
“I’ve called you before,” I grumble, pinching the bridge of my nose as I squeeze my eyes shut.
“I don’t think that’s true. You usually just text.”
“I need your help with something.”
“Lay it on me.” I can practically hear his satisfaction.
“I need a distraction.”
Fuck, am I really asking Sully for help?
